Good chasings
by Rowen-bsg
Summary: A unique perspective of life on New Caprica. Spoilers OccupationPrecipice. Peripherally AR.


**Good chasings**

By Rowen

Spoilers: 3.01 Occupation/Precipice

Peripherally A/R.

This was written for the LJ **Make Laura Happy challenge #1**, winning the "The You Clever Wench Award for Most Creative Use of the Prompt"

Challenge parameters: "Make Laura happy in bed"

_Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica obviously doesn't belong to me, just borrowing it for a while._

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Jake rested his muzzle on his paws as he watched the humans rush around doing incomprehensible human-things before hurrying off to their dens for the night. This had been the routine for some moon-cycles now, and Jake watched, taking comfort in the routine. Routine was reassuring; routine was good.

As the last rays of light faded behind the mountains, he saw a familiar figure shuffle past his territory and kick over his water bowl. Again. This was also becoming routine, although still perplexing: the water was perfectly good.

The human continued on his way without pausing or looking around, ignoring the four-legged owner of the water bowl. Jake had decided that Tips-Out-Water must be the chosen hunter of the new Pack Leader - he could smell the new Pack Leader's scent all over the human, like he could smell it on many of the females in the human pack. The new pack leader - Talks-to-Self - certainly mated with more females than the old pack leader, Rasping-Voice. Jake had only ever detected **his** scent on the pack's alpha-female: Teaches-the-Puppies.

Rasping-Voice had been well-respected by the pack, but had been replaced as leader by Talks-to-Self several moon cycles ago. Such was the way of the pack; the old giving way to the strong, although it was sad that he had died.

It was getting dark fast: night came quickly at this time of year. The humans were now all safe in their warm dens, and Jake soon heard the clanking noise that announced the arrival of the Moving Metal Things. He stood up and dutifully barked at them as they passed: another routine to be observed. As usual, the things ignored him and took up positions around the pack's territory. Jake knew his pack was scared of these things, although he didn't really understand why. They just clanked around and stood still.

That part of the nightly routine over, Jake turned around on his bedding and curled up, trying to keep warm. The night was cold - much colder that it had been in the metal den that had been his territory before this place. He whined, wanting to go inside the den of She-Who-Brought-Food, but no one came out to untie him. Recently, the only humans who came out after dark were the members of the new pack, who seemed to have joined with the old pack. There were lots of them who smelled the same. Jake found this confusing: it wasn't right - everyone should smell different. How else was he supposed to tell the difference between members of his pack? He could only identify four of the newcomers uniquely, and that was only because of the scent their mates left on them.

Resigned to another night in the cold, he chewed on the rope that held him in place. It was an ongoing pastime. Every few sleeps he would chew through the rope and gain freedom. The next day She-Who-Brought-Food would refasten the rope again.

Tonight would be a night of freedom, though, as the rope frayed and broke beneath his determined teeth. He trotted off to explore, and more importantly - find a warm place to sleep for the night. He padded up to the nearest Moving Metal Thing - which was now motionless - and raised his leg on it. The thing ignored him. Not scary at all.

He passed the den of Big-Fur-on-Muzzle without stopping: since his mate had whelped, Jake wasn't allowed in anymore. He thought about visiting Runs-With-Ball or Smooth-Head-With-One-Eye, but both of them were grumpy since their mates had gone with hunters of the new pack.

He paused outside the den of the pack elder Smokey-White-Pelt. That human had fixed a hurt in his paw, and usually gave him something good to eat. But tonight Jake could smell fresh blood and hear the screams of a human from inside. There would be no snacks tonight.

He trotted around aimlessly for a while until a familiar scent caught his attention. It was **her**: Teaches-the-Puppies - the Alpha female of the pack and old pack-leader's mate.

She had been sad since Rasping-Voice died, but she always had a pat and a kind word for Jake. The new pack-leader, Talks-to-Self, had approached her shortly after he took over the pack. Jake didn't fully understand humans, but he knew the look of one who'd just been slapped on the nose and was slinking away with his tail between his legs. Even though she wasn't mated to the new Pack Leader, her place in the pack hierarchy was still pre-eminent.

He nosed his way into her den, and waited while his eyes adjusted to the gloom. The smell of the old Pack Leader still lingered here, but was growing faint. Teaches-the-Puppies was alone, lying on her bed asleep. It wasn't right: the Alpha female should never have to sleep in a den alone. He padded over to her and licked her cheek.

"Bill... don't," she mumbled in her sleep, smiling.

Jake didn't understand the words, but she sounded happy. He wished her good chasings in her dreams, and curled up on the ground beside the bed.

Warm. Safe. Happy.

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END

_End notes: No, Bill isn't dead. I was trying to write from a dog's perspective. So if the old pack leader has been deposed and isn't still hanging around, I thought from a dog's point-of-view it would think the old pack leader was dead._


End file.
